Abandon
by SignsofSam
Summary: After Dean is hurt on a hunt, John abandons him at the local hospital. Can Dean ever forgive him, and, more importantly, when John comes back for him, will Dean agree to go? Epilogue:4/17
1. Chapter 1: The Offer

**Summary:** After Dean is hurt on a hunt, John abandons him at the local hospital. Can Dean ever forgive him, and, more importantly, when John comes back for him, will Dean agree to go?

**Disclaimer:** I am a poor starving college student. I do not own Supernatural (damn you Kripke!) or anything related to it except my own, poor pitiful little plotline. Please don't sue. _Comprende?_

**Rating:** T for some colorful language

**Author's Note:** So, this is only going to be three or four parts. It's a little something that's been in my head forever. It's obviously AU, but, then again, that's all I've been known to write, right?

Enjoy, and please review. It makes my day.

**Chapter One: An Offer**

"Dean, you haven't touched your Jello."

He looked away from the window, eyes red-rimmed and cloudy from where he had been crying, resituating his sling on his chest so it wasn't as painful. His eyes traveled down to the untouched cherry jello, and he shrugged halfheartedly. "I'm not hungry," he stated, feeling his knuckles pop as he made a fist with his semi-good hand.

"Dean-"

"Go away. I'm not sick, I feel fine…just leave me alone." His voice was soft, still laden with the drugs of sedation and pain medication and antibiotics and whatever else the doctors had pumped into his IV. When the nurse didn't move, Dean's jaw flinched and his hand grabbed the jello bowl, throwing it at her, watching with satisfaction as it slammed into the wall to the left of her. She gasped and hurried out, leaving Dean in peace again. Finally.

His eyes turned back to the window, and he waited.

His father would come back for him.

Sam would come back for him.

He just had to be patient and wait.

It was a couple of hours before the night nurse, Julia, entered the room, looking down at his chart. "You're being belligerent again, are you?" she called, watching Dean tense, then freeze as pain cascaded from his brain to his toes. "Dean, sweetie…"

"Go away! I just want you all to go away!"

She approached the bed, setting the chart down. "Dean, your father left you. I'm sure he…"

"Don't talk about him," Dean snapped, eyes opening, green bright and confused. "You don't know him. It's not your right!"

"I know that he left his _seventeen-year-old_ _son_ in the hospital while he was hurt, and didn't care that he was leaving behind someone who loved him so much. I know that he left during your surgery! You are extremely hurt, and you need family here, and he left. Just _left_ you!" Julia replied tersely, looking at his IV. "You're still taking in a lot of fluids."

"I don't know what that means."

"How's the broken arm?"

"It hurts. Is it supposed to feel good or something?"

"I'll see if we can give you a sleep aid tonight-I know you haven't been sleeping well since your father left-"

"I'm sleeping fine."

She clicked her tongue softly, and he turned away from her again, focusing on the window. He would ignore her until she went away. He had done it for the past three days, and she had left him in peace after a few minutes. "Dean, you aren't sleeping fine. You aren't fine. You've been-"

"Why can't you follow the damn routine? We do this every night. You beat me up about my father, I yell back at you, and then I ignore you and you leave. There is no extra conversation, no more feelings and talking about feelings and being a sappy emotionalist. So, please, get out," Dean snapped, fingers in the good hand clinching again.

She sighed, but left, soft footsteps on the white tile the only reason he knew she was going. She didn't understand…none of them understood. His father hadn't meant to leave him, and Dean was sure he was coming back. Dad had to finish the job, and finishing the job did not mean waiting around in a hospital answering the questions of cops who were suspicious of all John's actions.

It was his fault he was here, anyway. He was careless, stupid, and in the end, it was his fault that his father was gone and he was in limbo.

His chest hurt. He knew they had opened him up, knew something had been sewed and something had been removed, but he wasn't really sure what. The doctor had tried talking to him, but the sedatives they had him on were strong and he didn't understand half the words he was told. He knew his arm was broken in three or four spots, but he didn't know what they had done to it.

"Dean?" It was a male voice, his doctor, so he spared him a look. "The nurse said you needed something to help you sleep, that you were uncomfortable."

"I'm fine." He winced though, blowing his cover. "Please don't."

"You need to sleep, Dean. You're body needs rest, and you aren't going to get it on your own while your thinking about your father and your brother, okay? So I'm just going to give you a dose of this and hopefully you'll be able to get a couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep," the doctor explained, uncapping the syringe.

"I don't want it." Dean's head was shaking, his body trembling, but the doctor ignored him. "I don't want it."

"But you need it," the doctor whispered, inserting the needle into the IV line. "Just a few hours, Dean, and then you'll feel better. Now, do you need another blanket or anything?"

"I'm fine."

"Okay, then. I'll come back in a few hours and check on you." The doctor patted him on his shoulder, giving him a smile. "It will be okay, Dean. Just relax and go to sleep."

He moved around to get comfortable, his eyelids getting heavier and heavier, even as he tried to keep them open. The doctor stood beside the bed, watching him finally get comfortable right before he dropped off. "Julia, how's he eating?"

"Not very well. He not doing much of anything but moping."

"If he doesn't start eating, we're going to have insert a feeding tube. Have you talked to Children Services?"

"They're backed up and still hoping his father's going to show," Julia answered, shaking her head. "It's a sad situation. If he gets better and no one shows up…"

"He's seventeen; he won't find another family to take him in."

"It's the way of the world, unfortunately, Doctor Cross. He's a strong kid; he'll get through it. Any special instructions for when he gets up?"

"He's still in a lot of pain, so keep him on his pain meds. Get him some food, and be sure to explain to him about the feeding tube. Page me when he wakes; I want to have another talk with him," Cross said, signing off on Dean's chart. "We'll see if we can get him…"

"He can't, doctor. His family just _abandoned_ him. How is he supposed to recover from that?"

**----------**

"Dad."

"I don't want to talk about it, Sam."

"We have to go back for him."

"We will, Sam. We have to plan first."

"He's been there three days! Three days by himself! He probably thinks-"

"He knows we're coming, Sam. He knows," John replied, looking over his weapons. "He was really hurt, though; we have to give him to recover because we can't take care of someone that is that sick."

"Dad, you can't just sit here! He's going to stop thinking-"

"Sam, no. He knows."

**-----------**

Dr. Cross was waiting in Dean's room when his eyes began opening. He put aside his charts, offering a smile to the surly teenager as he came out of his sleep. "Afternoon, Dean."

"Do you ever go home?"

"How are you feeling?"

"You drugged me. I'm feeling drugged," Dean snapped, wincing as his arm shifted in the sling. "Leave me alone."

"Not gonna happen. So, social services-"

"Call them and see if I'm here in the morning," Dean interrupted, and the doctor shook his head.

"Well, you're being kicked out tomorrow, but you can't be by yourself. These wounds need a lot of looking after and you are going to have no antibiotics, no pain meds, nothing. So, you're going to come home with me. I can look after you, and I'm off for the next four days. After a couple of weeks, you should be okay to go with a social worker-"

"My dad's coming back for me."

"Before he takes you anywhere, I'm having a big talk with him about responsibility and dumping your child at a hospital. And if he's not here before tomorrow, it's either with me or a foster home."

"My dad-"

"Will come back for you. I got it the first fifty times you said it. But your father isn't here. He left you, so you have to deal with this by some other way than saying 'my father is coming for me'. Right now, he isn't and you need other options."

Dean wanted to tell him to shut up, to tell him that his father _was _coming and would rescue him, but there was a tiny twinge of pain and disappointment, a tiny nudging voice that was saying _he's not coming back_. He forced the voice back down, forced it back into prison, and looked with a smug confidence to the doctor. "I'm….I'm done talking."

"All right. The nurse has food; you eat it or we put a tube through your nose, down your throat and feed you like that, you understand me?"

"I don't respond well to threats."

The doctor rose from his seat, carefully piling the charts before picking them up. "It's not a threat, Dean; it's a promise. I'll check on you later."

Dean grimaced, watching the man leave, letting the tears fall while he was alone, just to get them out. That's all he needed-a way to release them, so there were none left when other comments about his family came into play. His father would come back for him, he would. He needed Dean, needed him to help with Sam, to look after his brother, and he wouldn't forget that.

Dean was a good hunter. He had just gotten caught up in the moment of protecting Sam, and things had gone too far…

"Dean?" A meek voice called, and he looked up, at the nurse. "I have food for you."

"I'm not going to throw anything at you," he promised, giving her a smile, the classic smile that got him in a lot of trouble at school. "I promise." She came forward with the tray, setting it in front of him. Applesauce, soup, some sort of jello…

What was with these people and their Jello? He _hated _Jello. It looked weird and bounced and would probably stick on a wall if he made it. He pushed his spoon in it, watching the light reflect off the blue substance and making it stare back at him.

He didn't eat anything. He couldn't take his eyes off the jello, and therefore didn't touch anything in close proximity to it, which meant no food. His stomach was growling, but he couldn't bring himself to touch the blue jello.

Who knew a hunter with his level of fearlessness would be so scared of something as stupid as jello.

"I wasn't lying when I said I'd put a tube in if you didn't start eating."

Dean looked up at Doctor Cross, then out to the night sky. "Jello's freaky."

Cross looked up, surprised, his face smug. "Our badass patient is scared of Jello?"

"It's freaky. I'm not touching anything that's near it."

"All right. We'll get the nurses to get you something without the jello," Cross promised. "How do you feel?"

"Sore. Tired. Like you ripped something out of me…"

"We removed a portion of your liver; it's only natural that it hurts," the doctor explained. "Don't worry-it will grow back, but it was so badly damaged that it wasn't able to be saved."

"You took out my liver?"

"About…an eighth of it? You'll live, I promise. We'll have to watch to make sure it's healing properly, but there shouldn't be any lasting damage. You lacerated your large intestine, which was a little more severe, and you're kidneys are bruised. You're chest should feel like hell."

"I have a high pain tolerance," Dean answered, using his good arm to push himself up. "My liver, huh? So no more drinking."

"You shouldn't have been drinking anyways."

"Yeah, well, what did you expect? I mean, according to you, my father abandoned me. What makes you think he wouldn't let me drink?"

"Well, you won't be drinking anymore, will you?" Cross said, smirking, and Dean raised his eyebrow. "We're releasing you tonight."

"Good. Where's the nearest bus stop?"

"You aren't leaving-"

"You said I was being discharged!"

"And we've also had the conversation about this!" Cross snapped back. "You're too weak to do anything. You won't make it to the bus stop-you'll either pass out from the pain or bust some internal stitches or damage your body and the hours I spent putting it back together will go to waste! You might not care about it, about yourself, but I sure as hell do because I invested a lot of time in making _you_ better!"

"I'm not-"

"You've got about six hours. I suggest you rest, Dean. It's going to hurt to get out of the bed, let alone down to a car."

"Why? Why do you care? I have a family. I don't need you." He wanted the words to hurt, to sting, to burrow as deep as his fears about being abandoned by the two people that meant the world to him.

Doctor Cross sighed, smiling at the nurse. "Can you get him another tray, without Jello? Seems our young patient here has a fear of our residential favorite dessert."

"Of course, Doctor," the nurse answered, taking the tray from Dean. "Mr. Winchester."

He waited until the nurse left before looking back at the doctor. "You didn't answer my question."

"I didn't answer your question."

"Are you ever going to answer it?"

"Maybe."

"You know, you are getting on my ever loving nerves."

"I bet. Maybe it will do you good." And with that, Dr. Cross left, and Dean cursed.

Damn it all to hell.

----------

"Today, Dad?"

John Winchester looked up from his journal, glaring at his son. "No. He has to get better before we can get him, Sam. We can't handle hurt."

"He's been there four days! How much longer are we going to leave him in the hands of people that could hurt him? He's probably thinking that we're never going to return!"

"He'll be-"

"HE WILL NOT BE FINE WHILE HIS FAMILY IS LEAVING HIM!"

"Samuel, I suggest you don't used that tone of voice with me! We will go when I say! Until then, your brother can figure out how not to screw up hunts while he's recovering because I won't always be there when he messes up!"

Sam laughed, shaking his head. "So that's why? You're teaching him a _lesson_? You left him hurt in an unfamiliar place to make him see something? He's going to forget us if you leave him there for too long."

"He'll be fine."

-----------

His good arm was wrapped tightly around his mid-section, as if he was holding his insides together. He just had to get to the wheelchair, but it required three or four steps that made his insides feel like falling out. "Just a few more steps," the physical therapist encouraged, keeping a hand on Dean's shoulder. "You're doing a good job."

"It hurts."

"I bet. There-sit back," the man said, keeping Dean from falling into the wheelchair. "Are you comfortable?"

Dean bit back a reply, glaring at him. "I need you to be honest, Dean. If you aren't comfortable, we can give you a very light sedative that should take the edge off until Elijah can get you home," the therapist said, and Dean sighed, nodding. "Okay, let me get you the sedative. Don't move."

"Funny," Dean said, his eyes catching the doctor's. "I don't understand why you're doing this. Why you're taking me in…"

"Because you need someone to lean on, and I'm willing to do that for now," Elijah answered, offering a smile. "And I'll do it until you don't need me anymore."

"I don't need you now," Dean replied harshly, and Elijah gave him a small smile as the physical therapist reentered the room, a syringe in his hands.

"Here, I'll get that, Bill." The therapist nodded, handing over the syringe. "You do need me now, kid. If I wasn't here, and you were kicked out, you'd end up back here because you'd collapse again. Just let me take care of you, okay? Just don't argue."

Dean sighed, watching the doctor give him the shot. "Just…just until my family get's back."

Elijah nodded, smiling at the acquiescence. "All right, just until your family get's back."


	2. Chapter 2: Breakdown

**Summary:** After Dean is hurt on a hunt, John abandons him at the local hospital. Can Dean ever forgive him, and, more importantly, when John comes back for him, will Dean agree to go?

**Disclaimer:** I am a poor starving college student. I do not own Supernatural (damn you Kripke!) or anything related to it except my own, poor pitiful little plotline. Please don't sue. _Comprende?_

**Rating:** T for some colorful language

**Author's Note:** Next part was written last night (I had some inspiration and free time), but I don't know when the next part will be up. Thanks for replies from:

***sylia91**

***Brenny**

***masondixon**

***happycabbage75 (love the name, btw)**

***jmor**

***Lia Walker**

***rholou**

***Iluiana**

***cab60**

***AllieMcD**

***burblefish**

I was going to reply, but I've been busy (this chapter, a physics test, physics homework, work....), so I just wanted to take the time to thank you all. Also, thanks to everyone who added this story or favorited it.

Now, without further comments that no one wants to read (but after a reminder to please Read and Review):

**Chapter Two: Breakdown**

Sam paced back and forth in the hotel room, staring at the body of his father, passed out with a half-drunk bottle of cheap whisky on the nightstand. He stopped momentarily, biting his bottom lip as he turned, his eyes still on his father. How could he let Dean remain in that hospital, alone, in pain by himself in an unfamiliar town with _serious_ injuries due to a hunting accident? How could he even consider that?

Sam sat on his bed, long legs stretched out in front of him in too-short jeans. He had sprung up in the past couple of months, Dean said that it was normal, that it would work out eventually and his top would catch up with his bottom.

He turned back to the nightstand, eyes focusing on the bottle. Dad was drinking far too frequently now, and in the past days since Dean was gone, he had stepped it up.

He was just going to abandon Dean in that town, with those people, until Dean was up to par again.

Throwing him to the wayside and letting him be someone else's problems.

------------

"So, this is it. This…"

For the first time since Dean had been under his care, Elijah Cross sounded a little uncertain of himself as he pushed Dean inside to the foyer. "Are you expecting me to say something?" the teen asked, bemused smirk on his face, raised eyebrow in place. "It's a lot nicer than what I usually live in. Good enough for you?"

"Dean, this is not a competition. I realize your place is with your family-wherever that family is. But I just-"

"I'm only here because my other option was being shoved out the entrance of the hospital or being carted off to a foster home or a group home or….I might look it, but I'm not dumb. I know not to make stupid mistakes," Dean snapped, and Cross realized the sedative was wearing thin, the boy's edginess high.

"Why don't we get you to the bedroom? You look like-"

"If you say rest I'm going to kick your ever-loving ass when I get out of this damn wheelchair and can walk again."

"I don't doubt that," the doctor replied. "I could keep you off your feet for a long time."

Dean turned to looked at him, fear in his eyes. "You wouldn't though, right? I need-I have to walk. To leave. And I need to leave. I've got important things to do, and they don't-"

"I was kidding, Dean. You'll be up on your feet in the next few days." Dean let out a relieved sigh, turning back to focus on wherever the doctor was taking him. He needed to know the floor plan, the easiest ways out, the easiest places to hide, what he could use to his advantage and what would put him at a distinct advantage. He needed to learn it all in case something should happen.

"So, here's the bedroom; it's not much, but I don't suspect you'll want to be cooped up in here for that long."

Dean wasn't sure how to act, what to say. His room might not be _much_ by the doctor's standards, but compared to the usual crapholes he and his brother stayed in, this room was a luxury. There was a large bed, two windows on either side, a dresser with a tv set on top of it, and a small desk in the corner. "I'm not tired."

"You will be once you take the antibiotics and the sleeping medicine that I prescribed for you. In fact, you'll get about six hours of uninterrupted sleep and then it'll be time for dinner, at which point, you will eat," the doctor snapped, matching Dean's former smirk with one of his own. The teen let out a few choice words, glaring at the doctor, who simply turned his smirk into a boyish grin. "C'mon, let's get you out of this wheelchair."

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Dean whispered, and the doctor shook his head.

"All you have to do is lean on me," Elijah replied, putting one hand on Dean's good shoulder, the other around his waist.

"Woah, now, Doc," Dean murmured, biting back a whimper when he was lifted up. "You're going a little fast, aren't you?"

"We're almost done," Cross answered, setting his charge on the bed. "Can you move yourself back?"

Dean nodded, using his good hand to push himself back. Elijah moved the comforter back, letting Dean get settled back against the pillows. He was breathing hard, harder than he should, the pain in his chest and belly exploding as he shifted. His eyes closed, and he tried to focus on moving instead of the pain that seemed to encompass him. "-okay? Dean, I need you to breathe," Elijah was whispering, kneeled down by the bed, a hand on the teen's knee. The doctor didn't help; Dean felt his breath hitch, felt his body tense. "Dean, come on now, breathe in and out. You keep doing this you are going to hyperventilate."

Dean let out a breath, unclenching his hands. "I'm fine," he whispered, opening both of his eyes. "Okay, I'm fine. Just…"

"I'm going to go get the IV and stuff," Elijah said, leaving the room, giving Dean a minute to compose himself, or whatever Dean needed to do in that time. He grabbed some of the supplies he brought home, sifting through for the high-dose antibiotics, grabbing one, and the low-dose antibiotics, grabbing another one. Then came to pain medication and the sleeping pill. There were anti-nausea medications, too, but those were for later.

When he came back, Dean was resting against the pillows, eyes out the window. "You spend a lot of your time doing that, don't you? Looking at the scenery," he observed, and Dean shrugged, glaring at the sling. "What now?"

"This sucks. If I hadn't of gotten hurt, if-" he stopped himself, shaking his head. "Never mind. It's not important."

"If you hadn't gotten hurt doing what?"

"It's none of your business."

"Dean, did your father make you get hurt? Like, did he-"

"I'm not ten, dude; you can stop talking to me like I am. My dad didn't hit me; my dad doesn't touch me," Dean snapped, his glare turning to the doctor. "I got myself hurt."

"How, Dean? It's a simple question. A _simple_ question and I shouldn't have to ask it more than once. The fact that I do makes your story suspicious," Elijah tried to reason with him, setting the pills down. "I just want an answer."

"I can't tell you, Doc. I can't. I'm sorry, that's just the way it works," Dean answered, turning his head away from the man.

"That's disappointing," Elijah said, not really sure what else there was to discuss. "Here-take these. You can get some sleep." He nudged the pills towards Dean, until they rested on the edge of the nightstand, beside a cup of water. "I'll come back and check on you in a little while."

He didn't slam the door, but Dean was pretty sure the good doctor was pretty damn close to doing just that as he left, his steps terse and rigid, his body language upset. Dean wasn't exactly sure how to deal with that; his dad had always been disappointed in him, not in something Dean wasn't telling him. Most of the time, John didn't care much about what Dean had to say.

Dean's eyes trailed from the door, across the white walls to the oak nightstand, to the pills there. Four pills, two tiny circles, one a smallish rectangle, and one large. He sighed, glancing back at the door before reaching out his good hand to grab the pills. He studied them again, only for a moment, before popping each one into his mouth, swallowing without help from the water. He could at least do that, obey that order.

He wished for sleep to come, except without the dreams. Without the dreams of that night, of watching that monster run for Sammy, of stepping in the way, of his body flying through the air…he wished for a night of peace.

It didn't take long for the effects of the pills to start; he became drowsy, his mannerisms became slow, his thoughts stopped.

He was thankful for the silence, but it was the first time the thought of his little brother flashed through his mind before he blacked out.

Only fifteen minutes passed before the door to the guestroom opened and Elijah walked in, guilt directing his motions. He couldn't be mad at Dean; it wasn't Dean's fault he grew up being secretive, and it wasn't Dean's fault that he was forced to protect those secrets from everyone.

He looked far younger than seventeen when he was sleeping; he looked far more innocent, as well. Elijah Cross didn't realize Dean was anything but an unconfident center with a badass exterior. He pulled up the comforter, gently lifting up the sling so that it could rest on the outside of the blanket. He grabbed the box of Dean's clothes from his car, coming back to put it on the desk. Dean had worn a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that Elijah had bought at the gift shop, but he still had clothes that were dropped off with him.

Once again, Elijah wanted to talk with John Winchester about the responsibility of being a parent.

There were several ratty t-shirts, which, after examination, Elijah set to the side to throw out. The jeans also had holes, but they were on the knees and, for all Elijah knew, that was stylish, so he put the jeans in the top drawer of the dresser. He quickly shoved the boxers in another drawer, and pulled out a couple of white t-shirts. He added them to the undergarment drawer. There were a couple of too-big flannel shirts, and he folded each one, putting them in the third of three drawers, and then pulled out the last item, a worn leather jacket.

This, Elijah knew was special, as he put it on the back of the desk chair. hearing something clink to the ground. He picked up the necklace, studying it momentarily before setting it on the nightstand. Two things that might make Dean more comfortable and more affable to talking to Elijah.

Start with baby steps.

------------

"You have got to be kidding me," Sam spat out to his father, not moving as the man moved about the room, shoving clothes in duffle bags. "So we're just leaving? What about Dean?"

"We're coming back for him as soon as he gets-"

"We shouldn't be leaving him in the first place!" Sam shouted. "No, we shouldn't have left him at the hospital! What if doesn't want to come back when you decide to show your ass back up again?"

It was a distinct possibility in Sam's mind; who wouldn't want to give up their lives? Who wouldn't want to stop living in hotel rooms, stop getting hurt, stop…everything? Get a chance of getting a good education, of going to college-who wouldn't want that?

But Sam needed Dean back, needed his brother, and wanted him back soon.

-------------

He first felt pain; it was unnatural, blinding pain that at first made him tense, but then he remembered what the doctor said-_relax_-and he did, his eyes focusing on the pendant he caught sight of on the nightstand. He reached out a hand, slowly, inch by inch, a crawling pace, his hand finally wrapping around it. He jerked it back to his chest, coughing as he wrapped his hand tightly around the pendent, feeling it's cool metal, remembering the Christmas Sam gave it to him. He remembered the Barbie doll, the utter look of disgust in Sam's face…

"I see you're up," Elijah said from the doorway, and Dean looked up at him, nodding. "I found that in the jacket, and I just thought…just thought you needed it."

"My brother gave it to me when I desperately needed it. Thank you," Dean whispered, and Elijah nodded, crossing the room.

"Do you want me to put it on?" he asked, helping Dean sit up. At Dean's nod, he put the necklace on, settling it against his chest. "How did you sleep?"

"Okay," Dean murmured, his voice still laden with sleep and hurt.

"Okay, that's all I get?"

"That's all you get."

"So you're back to being the smart ass. I can handle that. C'mon, dinner's ready."

"Dinner? How long have I slept?"

"Seven or eight hours. You should be well rested." Dean nodded, kicking off the comforter slowly. "Let me get the wheelchair."

"Do you have to? Can't I just-"

"No. You need a couple of days in bed, which means no walking, to get the liver regenerating, and then we'll work on the walking part."

"But what if my dad comes? I need to be ready." It was a hopeful, child-like voice that made Elijah take a second look. He was still suffering after-effects from the pain medication and the sleeping pill, not the badass _quite_ yet.

Quite being the operative word.

"C'mon, Dean. Let's get you to the table." He shifted his young ward to the wheelchair, letting him settle his arm against his chest, the other in his lap, "We have some nice warm broth and some applesauce for you."

"Sounds pleasant," Dean grumbled, and Elijah smiled. "I want a cheeseburger."

"I promise, the first time you can have a cheeseburger, I will give you one," Elijah replied with a smile, setting the bowl in front of Dean. He picked up the spoon, glancing at the doctor one last time before dipping it in the broth, bringing it up to his lips and sipping. That hurt, too; his throat was sore, but when it got to his stomach, it got absolutely unbearable. He shook his head, pushing the bowl away from him. "Uh huh, Dean; you have to eat."

"No, it hurts."

"When did you become so whiny? Toughen up and get it down." For a moment, Dean thought he was hearing his Dad; he could remember those same words coming from the man a couple of days before the hunting mission that went awry.

Now he was determined. He picked the spoon back up, taking another sip of the bland substance. Elijah sat across from him, smug smirk on his lips. A little egging on went a long way with a competitive kid like Dean.

"So, you have a brother?"

Dean looked up from his broth, eyes narrowing in question. "Why do you want to know?"

"I'm just making conversation, Dean. You don't have to answer."

"I have a brother. His name is Sam. He's younger than me."

"By how much?"

"Four years."

"He must miss you by now." Dean shrugged. "Okay, new topic. What about school?"

"What about school? It's June-there is no school," Dean replied. "And I won't be here that long."

"But you'll be a senior?"

"Yeah, I'll be a senior."

"You must be excited. College?"

"None of your business, again, Doctor Cross," Dean snapped, taking another sip. "Listen, I appreciate this, all of this, but they are coming back, so you don't need to be concerned about my welfare. They will."

"All right, Dean, I know; like I said, I'm just making small talk."

"Well, don't, okay? I don't need you to know about my life."

Elijah nodded, his chair scrapping as he stood up. "Well then, I'm just going to leave you to it then. You keep saying you don't need me, so, you do it. I'll leave your medicine in your room; you don't want to be moving after you take it. I'll be in my study."

And then he was alone.

------------

He stared at the empty bowls, wondering how he was going to get back to the bedroom, to the bathroom…

Dammit, he was Dean Winchester, and he was a damn good hunter. He could do this!

He pushed back with his good arm, grabbing the wheel of the wheelchair, moving towards his room. He was breathing hard, but he was doing it. _Take that, Dr. Elijah Cross! I don't need you!_ he thought, making his way to the door of his bedroom. He opened it, pushing his way to the bed. _Hah!_

And then he planted his good hand on the bed to push up, and his stomach dropped and pain burst and his wrist buckled and then his face slammed into the bed. "Shit!" he yelled, tasting blood in his mouth. He laid on the ground, face down, and the tears started to fall.

He wasn't anything but a pathetic _invalid_ who couldn't do anything right.

The tears were hot and wet, mixing with the blood and sweat of his head. He curled up, trying to shift so his arm wasn't trapped under him, but he couldn't. He closed his eyes, and wished it all to be over. If he just took one too many pills, it would be quick. Easy. Painless.

"Elijah!" he called, his voice soft. "Doctor Cross! Please, I need some help! Please."

The door opened, and Elijah kneeled by the boy, helping him up. Tears streamed down his face, and Dean tried to wipe them off quickly, to not much affect. "Ssssh," Elijah soothed, letting the teen rest his head against the man's chest, the tears not stopping. "It's okay, I'm here now. You can rely on me now. I promise I won't leave you alone."

Not like your father, Elijah wanted to say.

Dean didn't need to hear the last four words to know that's what he meant.

And something inside of him broke.


	3. Chapter 3: Defensive Walls

**Summary:** After Dean is hurt on a hunt, John abandons him at the local hospital. Can Dean ever forgive him, and, more importantly, when John comes back for him, will Dean agree to go?

**Disclaimer:** I am a poor starving college student. I do not own Supernatural (damn you Kripke!) or anything related to it except my own, poor pitiful little plotline. Please don't sue. _Comprende?_

**Rating:** T for some colorful language

**Author's Note:** Had my physics test this afternoon, then came home and worked diligently to get this chapter out-you guys have been so patient and I didn't want you waiting any longer than possible. Please note that **chapter four will be the last**.

In other news: I don't know how I feel about this chapter. It's setting up for the final chapter, and that's about it…I don't know if it connects so well. Did you get the point? Let me know what you think. Enjoy, and please review. It makes my day.

**Chapter Three: Defensive Walls**

"I'm sorry," Dean whispered, flinching as the doctor pulled the last stitch through the cut on his forehead. Thankfully, it only needed ten stitches.

"For what?"

"I do need someone's help, and if it isn't my family, then I guess I should be taking it from anyone willing to give it," Dean finished, looking up hopefully.

"Well, that's why I'm here-technically, why you're here, but let's not split hairs. Now, it's going to hurt for awhile-" the man was back in doctor mode-"And there is going to be some bruising, but I don't think it's going to scar."

"Thank God, because Lord knows how I'd get the girls with the dumb scar in the middle of my head," Dean joked, cracking a wide, easy smile that went away instantly when it spread pain across his face.

"Yeah, you look like the ladies-man type. I bet they couldn't resist you."

"For the most part, you bet right," Dean answered, resting back on the bed, letting the doctor find Sportscenter after he had cleaned off his hands, cleaned up his supplies. After he set out the pills, Dean took the antibiotics quickly, and the ones that weren't the pain pills. "Do I need those? Really? I don't like…I don't want to be doped up all the time."

"They'll keep you from feeling like shit."

"Let me feel like shit, then."

"How about, you just take the sleeping aid tonight, and tomorrow you take just the big pain pill. If you can handle the pain then, we'll reduce it even more," Elijah offered, swiping the two pills and returning them to their container. Dean swallowed the sleeping pill, eyes turning back to the window as Elijah turned off the lights, setting the volume on the TV to low. Dean fell asleep watching twilight fall into night, knowing tomorrow would be a new day, literally and figuratively.

"Good night, Dean," Elijah whispered, shutting the door, not closing it, just incase something happened.

Dean shifted in the bed, feeling the medicine start to work. "Night, Doc," he murmured, the TV covering him, and it suddenly felt as if one of the many walls he had up to keep the Doctor from getting in, from making a difference and impact in his life finally shake loose and fall.

--------------

"It's been a month, Dad. Are we ever going back?"

"Sam, I don't need this from you right now," John snapped, the same excuse he had used every day for the past month, as they holed up at Bobby's, before Bobby learned where Dean was and kicked John out and John took Sam with him.

Now they were somewhere in Montana, hunting a spirit, and John was on his fourth beer of the hour. Usually, he went out to drink, but for some reason he wanted to keep Sam close.

"Then when can I ask? Because it might not be convenient for you, but Dean is _alone_ somewhere in Hicksville, Wherever and he isn't coming back unless we go get him! Why can't you get that through your thick skull instead of drinking away the memories of him?" Sam shouted, grabbing his jacket. "I'm going out."

"Samuel-"

"Maybe you'll just leave me here. After all, you have a tendency of abandoning people." John didn't flinch, didn't tense, and Sam shook his head. "God, one day you'll realize that you've screwed up your life and your chances with repairing your relationship with Dean. And then it will be too late."

The door slammed as his youngest son left, and John finished off the beer and opened the tab of another.

-------------

"And…dun dun dun…cheeseburger!" Elijah said, presenting the plate to Dean, a small smile crawling across his face when Dean smiled up at him. "I told you the moment you could have one-"

"You mean it's healed?"

"Pretty much. It's fully functioning, so enjoy."

"Does that mean no more pills?"

"Not exactly. That means less pills," Elijah whispered, and Dean rolled his eyes. If there was one thing he and the doc didn't agree on, it was the pills that he had to take-antibiotics, still, and there was a bottle of sleeping pills in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom if he couldn't sleep. "Are you going to eat that thing? Cause I went to hell and back to make it. Literally, I had to call Ann and ask her how to get the most grease on that thing as possible. Afterwards, you are going to see the cardiologist to see what all that grease does to you."

Dean laughed. picking up the burger and taking a big bite of it. It was like food gold, and he couldn't help but smiled as he chewed, feeling the meat melt with the cheese and bun in his mouth. God, he had missed cheeseburgers.

"I also did a little shopping today, got you some new jeans. Yours' are looking a little worse-for-wear," Elijah said, glancing to Dean to watch him slowly stop chewing, looking at the man. "I know…I know, I wasn't supposed to buy you anything, but your shirts were ratty, and your jeans-"

"Doc, you promised."

"No, I said. I didn't promise, and I can't in good conscience allow you to keep those ones with the holes all over them, so just take them, please. You haven't bit my head off in a month, think of these as your reward," Elijah tried to say, but Dean shook his head. "Dean, c'mon. I thought…please."

"Fine. Just this once," Dena whispered, a smile gracing his face as he picked up his cheeseburger again. "Oh, how I love you, cheeseburger. I know you've missed me, too."

Elijah rolled his eyes, setting down a bowl of French fries. "So, I went all out on this and everything," he explained. "I put the jeans in your room."

Dean was uneasy about accepting anything from Elijah. He didn't want to have to owe the man, but thus far Elijah had pushed and pushed and pushed. He had new shirts tucked away in the dresser by old ones, a new jacket that was tossed beside his old leather one on the back of the desk chair. He had new shoes, new socks…just about new anything.

"It's been a month," Dean whispered, and Elijah let out a sigh. He didn't want to talk about this, but Dean did, so he would. "I don't think they're coming back."

"I'm sorry."

"I miss my brother."

This was a rare time for Dean; he never talked about his family, especially not his brother. "I am so sorry, Dean."

"Me, too. I just…I wonder every day why he left. Like, I get he was trying to teach me a lesson, but he didn't have to do this. _He didn't have to leave me behind_."

"Tell me about your brother." Anything to get Dean off the pain that his father caused him. Elijah had known the boy for a month, but…he felt like Dean could have been the brother he didn't have. "Sam, right?"

"Sam. He's….he just turned fourteen in March. He's smart, like super smart Velma style, and…I've been protecting him since my mother died in a fire when I was four. That's been my job."

"Your job?"

"Yeah, my job."

"You're seventeen. Why couldn't your father protect him?"

"Sam's my little brother. Dad protects both of us, and I protect Sam. It's been that way since forever."

"I don't understand that, Dean. What do you protect him from?"

Dean turned back to his burger then, and Elijah figured the conversation was over. Dean had opened up about his family maybe twice since he came, and both times were quick, like this night, and each time Elijah grew more and more dislike for John Winchester. And if the man ever came back, he wouldn't be getting Dean back without a fight.

-----------

"Where have you been?"

Sam ignored his father, instead tossing him a bottle of water. "Samuel-"

"I don't even remember. I don't remember the town, I don't remember anything other than us taking him to the hospital and watching him go back behind the ER doors and then you dragging me out. So I swear to God, you are going to sober up and tell me where in the hell you left my brother and I'm gonna go put this family back together."

"Don't talk-"

"Get over yourself. If you don't want me to talk like this to you, then you need to act like the damn adult in this family and you aren't. I'm thirteen and I shouldn't have to do this!" Sam snapped, taking a step back in surprise when John lumbered up, striding towards him.

"I miss him just as much as you do. But that boy was hurt, was more hurt than you realize, more hurt than we're capable of dealing with on the road; he is better off where he is," John answered, back, practically growling at him, pushing him back. "Don't try to go near him, Sam." With that, he took another swig and retreated back to his own bed, eyes focusing on the tv.

"You are do damn passive about this, Dad; passive and lazy about it. God, if I were Dean, I'd be glad I was gone."

------------

"C'mon, Dean…" Elijah tried to coax the teenager, smiling as he shook his head. "Dean, we're taking off the cast-"

"And you're going to have to put it back on because it's not healed!" Dean argued. "Can't we just take the X-ray with it on?"

"Dean, it's not going to hurt when we take it off, I promise. I mean, Julia is going to help me-"

"Oh, joy," Dean murmured, raising an eyebrow. "Julia's just here so she can torture me."

"Well, that's one reason, yes," Elijah answered, and Dean gave him the faintest of smiles. "Okay, so you are like some badass extradonaire who's afraid of jello, getting a little help, and getting his cast taken off? That's…"

"Stop laughing at me!" Dean snapped, which caused Elijah to laugh even more. Dean shook his head, squaring his shoulders as he opened the door of the car, making sure to slam the door as hard as he could. The white cast had a brown tinge on it, and Dean had taken the liberty of writing on it in…Latin, Elijah though, but he wasn't too sure.

Dean followed Dr. Cross into the exam room, sitting where he was told, resting his arm on the table. "I better get a big-ass hamburger for this one, Doc."

"Be good and you might," Elijah replied as Julia entered the room with the equipment needed.

"Oh, look, it's my favorite patient," she quipped, handing the saw over to the doctor.

"Okay, that goes nowhere near me," Dean said, jerking his arm back to his chest, feeling the muscles in his back tighten, his mood becoming defensive. Elijah didn't understand how this one teenager could go from so lighthearted to so _hard_ in one minute, at the turn of a word. Dean was now the cold and calculating teenager who had woken up in the hospital two days after being dumped there, the kid who had thrown the jello at the nurse, the teen who tried to bite the head off of everyone who tried to help him. He was the boy that tried to get out of the hospital by clawing at the window until his nails bled.

"Dean, it's not going to hurt you," Elijah soothed, stepping forward. "Look-see, the blade doesn't even cut my skin."

"I don't want it near my arm."

"How do you expect us to get the cast off then, buddy?" Elijah tried to reason. "Julia, will you give us a minute?" She nodded, closing the door behind her. "Dean, look at me, bud. Look." He lifted the kid's chin. "I'm not going to hurt you with this. You know me, you know that I'm not going to hurt you at all."

"Cut off my arm," Dean muttered, and Elijah's eyes widened.

"Dean, what are you talking about? Is that what happened to your arm? It had some lacerations on it, slices. Did someone try to cut off your arm?" Elijah asked, feeling like he was grasping at straws. Who would be sick enough to cut off someone's arm? Was it the father? "John. Was it your father?"

Dean shook his head hurriedly, looking at Elijah. "He was trying to protect us. And I was trying to protect Sammy Because-"

"Because that's your job, I know. Dean, I don't want your arm. I want your arm to get better. I've got to take off the cast, and if that means I have to call orderlies and we have to go back to square one, I'll do it." He was trying to be firm-scared, child-like Dean responded better to firm order-like statements.

Dean's head jerked a little, and it was as if he came out of his funk. He pushed away from Elijah, pacing to the other side of the room, spinning on his heel, walking back. "I do need to cut off the cast at some point in time, Dean."

"Yeah, I know, doc. Just give me a couple of minutes? I'll be ready in a few."

"We need to talk to about this, Dean. Someone needs to answer for what they've done-"

"They already have, Doc, don't worry about that. Just…please."

Elijah nodded, opening the door, leaving Dean alone. He stood against the wall, looking at the brick, before arching back his arm, letting it fly, smashing into the wall with cast, flesh, and bone, a satisfied smile on his face as he pulled his arm out, letting it go, back into the wall, over and over again with that same smile on his face.

The cast broke apart as each punch became more forceful, but he never wavered, even as he felt the smack of flesh against the supports of the wall, felt the blood running through his knuckles, and he finally felt _normal _again, like the bubble of his luck had finally burst. Now Elijah could see the reason his father left him, could see that obviously he wasn't worth it to protect.

"DEAN!"

Elijah gripped the boy's shirt, jerking him back. "What are you doing?" He yelled, arms wrapping around Dean as the boy tried to shrug away. "Dean, don't make me call psych down here. What in the hell has gotten into you?"

"I'm being normal, Elijah. This is a normal me-this is the person that they so rightfully left. Don't you just want to leave me now, too? Drop me off to be someone else's responsibility because you can't do your damn job!" Dean snarled, and Elijah let go of him.

"Is that what you think? That-oh, God. Your jobs. Yours' is to protect Sam, and-"

"Dad's was to protect me," Dean finished, letting out a sigh. "And we all see how that ended."

"Not this time, Dean. I won't let that happen to you." There it went-another wall down. Elijah just wondered how many more he'd have to climb over to make Dean realize that he wouldn't back off his job.

--------------

_Winslow, Nebraska_. That's where Bobby said they were before they came to stay with him.

But Winslow didn't have a hospital.

But Nebraska…that was a start.

Sam smiled, opening the door to the local library. Time to do a little research.

-------------

_"Sam, stay beside me," Dean whispered, his hand pressing against him brother's chest. He aimed the flashlight in front of them, eyes on the lookout for any sign of the demon they were hunting. This was only Sam's twentieth trip out since he started training; Dad was always careful to choose hunts that wouldn't put him in too much danger, and this was one of them._

_"Dean, what's that?" Sam whispered, a thin hand pointing to the wall, to a symbol painted on it._

_"Dad's already been this way," Dean answered, turning. The flashlight turned in a wide arch, highlighting the black shadows of- "Sam, run!"_

_Long nail-like appendages grabbed his arm, jerking him forward. Sam screamed, but Dean lost sight of him as the flashlight was tossed to the side, the sound of glass breaking the only thing he could hear over the sounds of his little brother's screams. He felt his feet finally touch the ground before he was lifted again, thrown back the way they had been walking. His arm twisted behind him as he flew, and he felt it hit something, now his owns screams masking Sam's as the bone snapped and something popped in his shoulder._

_It hit him over and overa gain as he fell, crumpled in a ball to try and protect himself._

_Light flooded the room, and Sam's screams stopped in favor of a gunshot; Dean knew his dad was coming to the rescue. He felt Sam slip down beside him, felt the weak grip on his arm. "Dean! Dean please!" Sam whispered, and Dean, through his foggy vision, could see the tears running down his face. "C'mon, Dean, please-please!"_

He woke with a start, letting out a breath. _Sam_.

"Dean?"

Elijah had taken guard by Dean's bed, in the desk chair, and was watching him wearily. "Bud, you okay?" The routine they had been living in had been shattered in the past twenty-four hours, and Elijah just wanted it back to…no, not normal. He just wanted Dean to a comfortable place again. That's-

"Sam."

Elijah's eyes widened in shock. Another family memory? "What?"

"It was going to hurt Sam, so I put myself in the way."

"What are you talking about?"

"I…I need to tell you something, but you might…you won't believe it."

"Try me."

"When I was four, my mother died in a fire…" The last wall of defense the kid had to offer against Elijah felt the first jolt of its bricks crumbling.


	4. Chapter 4: The End is Only a Beginning

**Summary:** After Dean is hurt on a hunt, John abandons him at the local hospital. Can Dean ever forgive him, and, more importantly, when John comes back for him, will Dean agree to go?

**Disclaimer:** I am a poor starving college student. I do not own Supernatural (damn you Kripke!) or anything related to it except my own, poor pitiful little plotline. Please don't sue. _Comprende?_

**Rating:** T for some colorful language

**Author's Note:** I'm sorry about how long this took me, but live interrupted. Anyway, this is the official last chapter (and it's extra long), but, I was going to put a little epilogue at the end, and it was already too long, so I didn't. I'm considering adding another chapter, a little 300 word something, for the end. If you want it, please review and let me know! I'm going to start working on something else after my finals (two weeks and then I'm free for three months!), so I hope you all tune in!

And without further adieu:

**Chapter Four: The End is Only a Beginning**

He snickered; he couldn't help it.

"You don't believe me," Dean said, standing up, pushing comforter and sheets off the bed. "I'm not making it up."

"Kid, do you hear yourself? Monsters and demons-I mean, did you expect me to believe that? You-it's…" Dean ignored the chuckles, moving past him. Elijah followed him to the kitchen, watching the kid pull out the salt. "Dean, what are you doing? I kinda need my salt for when I cook-"

"You ward off demons with it. They can break lines of salt, so you put it at every doorway, every window-this is how you protect yourself."

"Dean, please-"

"I'm not crazy, Doc! This is my life! This is what happened to me. Something-some yellow-eyed sonuvabitch-killed my mother when my brother was six-months-old. Some evil thing, and now it's my job to kill it-to kill things like it."

"And how exactly do you do that?" Elijah asked in all seriousness.

"How do I do that? For spirits, you find the bones, salt and burn 'em. For demons, you exercise them. For everything else-some things just require a bullet, others a knife, but all of them need to be dead. Because if they aren't, they wreak havoc on people."

"Like killing mothers?"

Dean nodded, closing the salt. "I know-you don't believe me. You can't possibly-this just doesn't happen. But you have to realize that it does happen, nearly everyday to me, to my brother to my father-this is our normal lives."

"Why did you tell me this, Dean?"

"So you understand when I have to go."

Elijah shook his head, taking a step towards the teenager. "No. You aren't going anywhere-"

"I wish. I wish I could tell my dad to shove off, that I don't…that I want to stay here, because believe me, Doc, I do…I love it here, I love this life and I wish it was mine. But I have to remember Sam, I have to protect my brother, because if I don't no one will."

"I don't understand, Dean. Your father is gone, your brother is gone-and they've been gone for a month. They-"

"They abandoned me, I know," Dean whispered softly, looking one way, then the other, anywhere but at Elijah. "I shouldn't have to give up what I've found, but this is my _duty_. My destiny. I'm not meant to be the normal kid who can play sports and talk about girls and cars and go to the same school for four years-that's not me. I'm always going to be the one that knows the difference between a demon and a spirit. I'm always going to be the kid that had the cache of hunting knives and guns in the trunk of my Impala. I'm always gonna be the kid that listens to classic rock because it was the only radio station the car picked up from Oregon to New Hampshire. And I'm always gonna be the kid that gets dropped off at a hospital in Nowheresville with an arm that looks like it was ripped off. That's part of the job description."

"But you can change that, Dean. You are not what your father defined you as."

Dean let out a breath, one Elijah didn't know he was holding, and all the sudden Elijah felt a weight fall onto his shoulders. "You aren't leaving until someone comes for you."

"Doc-"

"No, Dean. You want to dump all this on me like this, fine. I can sift through it, I can try to rationalize it, but you do not get to leave me like this. You don't even no where to start looking."

Dean put the salt back in the cabinet, as calm as ever, and nodded. "I do want to stay. I like having a _normal_ life, I really do. But Sam needs me; I'm the older brother."

--------------

Sam crossed off Cornell, throwing his pencil down. It was amazing how many small towns there were in Nebraska, small towns with hospitals and dilapidated houses, at that. He rubbed his temples, staring at the time on the computer-one nineteen.

He wondered if Dean would even come with him. His father had abandoned his oldest son three months, twelve days, and about twenty hours ago, and that was a long time to pent up anger and frustration at the Winchester clan.

Not that John was any help. He spend most of the days engulfed in his liquor, ignoring hunts, ignoring Sam, ignoring anything and everything, and it was driving Sam to insanity. They had been in the same half-rotted no-tell motel for three weeks, while his father worked a "case" and Sam was forced to keep himself busy.

But he had his little project-the Find Dean project, and it was nearly complete. There were only two towns left-Eppsburg and Triton.

Two towns, and he would have done it. The Find Dean project would be complete, and the Convince Dean to Come Back project would be beginning.

---------------

"Doc?"

Elijah looked up from his fishing pole, to Dean. Since that fateful night two months ago, things had changed-their routine had changed. Dean opened up about his family, about what Sam meant to him, about his father's alcohol problems, about the constant moving and the constant switching of schools and the constant pain his life was, and Elijah listened. He offered to be the sounding board of Dean's problems.

He didn't know if he quite believed Dean's story, about hunting and demons and things that go bump in the night, but he knew Dean wasn't one to lie, and it almost fit as to why Dean was abandoned in Triton.

"Doc?" He looked up again, a small smile on his face. Dean had been surprised when he announced that they were going fishing; Dean hadn't been in years, since before his mother died.

"Yeah, Dean?"

"If they don't ever find me-"

"Let's not go there, kid. You know how I feel. I want you to stay here with me, forever. We could enroll you in the local high school, get you into college-"

"Not gonna happen, you know that. Remember the difference between this and my normal? This is like a small vacation for me."

Elijah smiled, nodding for Dean to continue. "If they don't ever find me, I have to start looking for them. I can't leave Sammy alone for much longer; he's starting high school this year, and he's gonna need me to protect him from the bullies."

"Where do you start?"

"With what, my search?"

"Yeah."

"I start with friends, with Bobby and Pastor Jim. If Dad went to either of them, I can follow."

"And if he didn't?"

"I follow the jobs. We're bound to wind up in the same town, on the same case."

"And when do you propose you start looking? Why haven't you already?"

"Because I like my vacation. I think in a couple of months-maybe November, December?"

"Okay."

"I'll need a car. If you can just lone me the money, I'll pay you back…"

"Or I could just give you the keys to my car. I need a new one, anyway."

"Sorry, Doc, but a hunter can't be seen driving that sissy piece of shit. I was thinking more of that Chevy Chevelle I saw at the used car lot-"

Elijah laughed, shaking his head. "What is with you and those damn classic cars? They're-"

"Beautiful? Sexy? The perfect way to get girls? The perfect way to kick demon ass? Oh, yes, those cars," Dean answered, pulling on his fishing rod.

"You are totally out-of-touch," Elijah interrupted. "Or just touched. Who knows with you."

"That's not funny, Doc. I'm just a little touched in the head. But just a little."

"Funny, dude, real funny. Maybe instead of demon hunting you should be a comedian. You're not quite as likely to die in that line of work."

Dean ignored the slight jab. It was okay if the doctor threw one in every now and then; he knew how hard it was to comprehend, to believe. "Really not in my future, Doc."

"Why do you call me that, Dean? I'm a lot more than a doctor to you know-"

"Dude, don't be getting all chick-flicky on me. I don't do so well with that," Dean answered instead, a smile gripping his face as he felt the tug of the fishing rod. "And I totally got one."

"You suck," Elijah answered, dropping his rod to help Dean, realizing he didn't need the help as Dean wrangled the fish in. "You really suck."

"Oh, it's so nice that you're jealous," Dean responded as he hauled the fish in. "Really, doc, green is a great color on you."

"Funny. Just wait until I leave your ass here," Elijah said, his eyes lit with laughter, and Dean raised an eyebrow. It was so nice to have someone just to do _this_ with, to laugh and joke without fearing that something on the hunt would get him.

He could add this moment to the list of what he would miss when he was gone.

-------------

Sam waited until John was passed out before getting rid of the beer bottles, tucking the keys to the Impala and the motel card into his jacket pocket, feeling them rest against the newspaper article he had printed out at the library. He cleaned up the bottles, leaving a glass of water and aspirin by his father's bedside before grabbing his duffle of clothing and various other supplies, heading towards the door. He only spared one more glance at his father before closing the door behind him, locking it tight.

He unlocked the Impala, tossing his duffle in it before climbing in, having to adjust the seat because even though Sam was growing, his lanky legs didn't quite reach the brakes and accelerator, not quite as long as Dean's yet.

He turned on the car, shifting it in reverse and backing out of the parking spot before turning on the lights and radio, pressing his post-it of directions onto the dash. Only one-hundred twenty-nine point six-four miles to go to Triton.

To Dean.

-------------

"Hey, Julia," Dean murmured as he walked towards Elijah's office, a bag of bad food and cokes in his hand.

"Hello there, badass patient," she replied, a smile on her face. "I see your arm healed nicely."

"Yeah, well, it should have, considering the doc wouldn't let me out of the house for six weeks." Oh, God, his attempt at lunacy. "But, he totally upped the tv package for me, so I guess that's a plus."

"I'm sure he didn't get anything from that deal," Julia said, holding open the door. "Eli, you got a visitor!"

Elijah stuck his head out, surprised when he saw Dean waving the bag of fast food. He beckoned the boy in, thanking Julia when she closed the door. "How did you get here?"

"I walked," Dean answered honestly, offering him a smile. "It's not that far, like two miles?"

"Huh. Just to bring me junk food. I'm banking on you vetoing the whole hunting thing," the doctor said, raising an eyebrow, and Dean shook his head. "Sorry, that was a low blow."

"Doc, don't worry about it. Now, this cheeseburger-certainly not as good as yours', but it's close. It's from the diner in town-"

"Ruth's?" Elijah questioned, taking a bite of the monstrous burger. Dean nodded. "It's the first place I found when I moved to town."

"Interesting. So, watch-" Dean raised his arm, twisting it one way, then the next. "Good as new, according to the physical therapist."

"You had your last session yesterday."

"I wanted to surprise you. Morono said that I have full mobility; it should be able to do whatever the hell it used to do," Dean answered with an easy smile. "So it looks-normal, right? Like the scars should fade and-"

It was Dean's insecurity; some would call him vain, but Elijah knew that it was the one thing Dean had to fall back on. If all else failed, Dean would always have his looks….and scars, while good for stories, looked dorky if they didn't fade.

"Yes, Dean; it should be fine."

"Oh, thank God."

"You are such a girly boy," Elijah teased, and Dean grinned. "Eat your cheeseburger. I'm not feeding you after this-you're eating me out of house and home."

"Doesn't that constitute some sort of neglect or something?" Dean asked with mild amusement, finishing his burger and starting on his fries. "So, what are you doing cooped up here? I thought you were a doctor?"

"Just working on a patient's prescriptions. She's sixteen, but her parents are uninsured, and unemployed, so it's expensive as hell for to get what she needs. I'm trying to find a way to cut them some costs."

"Wow, you're like an every-day Superman or something."

"Not like you. I do what I can, but hunting things? Killing them before they kill people, that's….it's very brave, and doesn't seem like it's particularly rewarding in that gratuity field. Total Spiderman ability there."

"More talk about my job, huh? You're really kicking it in, the whole guilt-trip thing…"

"You drive a hard bargain, Dean, and I can't just let you go that easily. What kind of guardian am I if I do?"

"You have to, because someone has to do my job, and I am damn good at it…well, except for the last hunt, obviously. Getting my arm jerked off was not in the works. Bad move, bad plan-"

"It seems like in that business you make a mistake, you get killed."

"Seems like," Dean said evenly, giving him a look. "Let's just stop talking about it. If we talk about it, the more likely it is to come to pass."

"Dean, it is going to come to pass, and you know it. You said it yourself, if they don't come back, you're going to look, and that's that-so it is coming to pass. And I don't like that, and I don't care what you think about that, and I-"

"Doc, just drop it. Why does everything we talk about end up being about my job, about the fact that I have to leave? Why can't you just let me enjoy my time here?" He grinned again, trying to lighten the mood. "Everyone leaves vacation, Doc; that's just the way it works in the world."

"I know, Dean, I know."

Elijah watched Dean finish his meal, and they had a minute of awkward conversation every-so-often. But their fight hung in the air, a heavy burden that both of them had to carry.

-------------

It was raining by the time Elijah got back to his house that night, and Dean was on the couch, nearly sacked out, his hand wrapped around the remote. The tv was on a baseball game, and Elijah shook his head, dumping his keys into the tray on the table by the door. "You didn't have to wait up."

"I didn't, not really. Baseball game I wanted to catch, and all," Dean answered. "I'm sorry and all that crap that I'm supposed to say."

"I know. Me too."

"Good to know I wasn't the only one suffering in that awkward apologetic stage."

"So, the game?" Elijah nodded to the tv, giving Dean enough time to sit up before he sat on the couch. "We're losing that badly?"

"I know, right? I thought it was a fluke, but their just not in it tonight."

A flash of lightning crossed the sky, and the electricity flickered once, twice before finally going out. Dean tensed, and Elijah found himself looking at the teen. "What's wrong?"

"I thought I heard something. Just…don't panic. I'm gonna go see if-"

"I'll do it."

"No you won't. I'm gonna go do it because I have the experience."

"But, Dean-"

"Don't argue with me!"

"Hey, now! Who's supposed to be who here?" Dean let out a chuckle, and Elijah stood when he did. "Doc-"

"No, Dean; you aren't going out there by yourself. C'mon, let me get a flashlight, then we'll go." Dean nodded, watching the man disappear into the kitchen for a minute before he returned, turning the flashlight on. Dean headed to the front door, a determined look on his face, his shoulders squared, ready to do battle.

Just as Dean reached out to open the door, he heard the lock click, and he turned back to Elijah, nodding to the couch. Elijah went and sat as Dean took refuge behind the door, letting it open, someone swiftly sliding in, footsteps as quiet as possible. The door closed, and the darkened person took a step forward, towards Elijah.

Dean sprang into action, his arm wrapping around the assailant's chest, pulling him back. "I suggest you reconsider what you're thinking about before I snap your neck," he whispered, his voice murder, and he felt the body in front of him tense.

"_Dean?_"

The body turned, and Sam's arms wrapped around his brother. "Dean, thank God!"

"Sam?" Dean breathed out, feeling the tears rise, but refusing to let them fall. "How did you get here?"

"I drove."

"Dad let you drive the Impala?"

"More like Dad's drunk off his ass and I stole it."

"Well then." He stopped talking as Elijah let out a cough. "Sam, this is Elijah Cross-he's the doctor who put me back together."

"I'm sorry about your electricity. I can fix it," Sam started, and Elijah smiled, taking the apology. "Oh, and I'm Sam, Dean's-"

"Brother. And please do-fix the electricity."

Sam nodded. "Dean, we have to go. Dad's in a bad way, he's-"

"Okay."

"That's it?" Elijah asked, eyes narrowing. "Your father's drunk so you two should go back to him? If anything-"

"He'll be better once Dean is there," Sam snapped, turning back to his brother. "Please?"

"Yeah, Sam, okay."

"Just like that?" Elijah whispered, and Dean turned to him. "Just like that, Dean? Knowing that he left you and knowing-"

"I have to go. I can't just leave him-" he nodded towards Sam "there by himself. I'm sorry, and I know you're disappointed, but it has to end now. My vacation. Remember, we talked about this. Thank you for everything, but try to forget, okay? Go back to being the Doc-"

"Dean, you can both stay here, okay? I don't care. But I can't in a good mind let you go back to a drunk-"

"I'm sorry, but I have to go. See, Dad needs me. This proves it."

"No it doesn't! All this proves is that he's the type of bastard that will drink himself into a funk expecting to guilt trip his son back to him! The same son he had no problem abandoning! Dean-" He was trying his best, one last valiant attempt to keep Dean from making one of the worst mistakes of his young life.

"Sorry, Doc. But I gotta go. Really, I'm-thank you for everything. Take care, and please, for the love of God, ask Julia out or something. You spend far too much time at home by yourself." Dean was trying to say it all, trying to get it all out in a few sentences. Trying to tell the doctor how much he had done for Dean, trying to tell him how much he appreciated it, trying to let him know that he'd never forget it. All in a few sentences.

He followed Sam out into the storm, glancing back at the house only once, the memories of his time there flashing through his mind. _No_, he decided, he couldn't do that. Not anymore. This house was gone, his time of relaxation and worry-free living gone, and that was just the way it was.

"Give me the keys," he told Sam, who nodded, tossing them over as he went to the passenger side.

He sat against the cool leather, the familiarity of the car instantly hitting him, and he wrapped his hands around the steering wheel, a hint of a smile crossing his face. "You ready to go?" Sam asked, and Dean shook his head, no. "Dean-"

"I need you to understand, Sam; this was the first time since Mom died that someone cared about me, just me, without expecting me to do something for them. And now I'm leaving it all behind for my father, who's in a motel somewhere, too drunk to actually come get me himself. So I need you to shut up, and I need you to just…I need you to just understand, for once, this isn't just about you." The words were harsh, but Dean was angry; he didn't want to leave, and the tug of Sam was the only thing making him go.

"I'm sorry," Sam murmured, and Dean nodded.

"I know. And I'll get over it. And this doesn't mean that I'm not going to protect you-you know I'll always do that."

Sam grinned, and Dean smiled, turning on the car, the tension leaving as the roar of the engine filled the car and the sounds of ACDC came from the radio. He turned on the lights, shoved his seat belt into place, his hand wrapping around the gear-shift to push it into drive when there was a wrapping on the window. He jumped, rolling down the window, surprised to see Elijah, shoving something in his face.

"Take this, kid. You get there and you call me to let me know you're safe, okay?"

"Doc? What are you doing? You're gonna get sick or something-" He took the money from the man's hand. "I can't take this, sir. I can't let you do this-"

"Yeah, you can, and you will, you got me? And please remember, anytime you need me, for anything, if you're injured or your brother's injured or your father's too much to handle or you just need a damn vacation, call me. I'll always come."

"Thanks," Dean murmured, shoving the money towards Sam. "And I will, Elijah. When I get to wherever I'm going."

"Good kid. Drive safe, be safe, don't let something get you. And take care of your brother, because he better be worth it."

"He is, Doc. Don't worry." Dean glanced at the thirteen-year-old, then back to his friend. "I wish I could've stayed."

"Me too. Bye, Dean."

"Bye, Elijah." He rolled up the window, quickly wiping away the tear, shifting the car into gear, and he left, driving off and leaving the doctor standing in the middle of the road, alone, watching the car go, one taillight out and the other burning bright red.

He finally knew what it was like to be abandoned.

It hurt like hell.

**-----Fini----**


	5. Epilogue: End

**Summary:** After Dean is hurt on a hunt, John abandons him at the local hospital. Can Dean ever forgive him, and, more importantly, when John comes back for him, will Dean agree to go?

**Disclaimer:** I am a poor starving college student. I do not own Supernatural (damn you Kripke!) or anything related to it except my own, poor pitiful little plotline. Please don't sue. _Comprende?_

**Rating:** T for some colorful language

**Author's Note:** Here is the epilogue: enjoy. I should not that this gives no perspective into John's idiotic decision into leaving Dean; sorry guys.

On a personal note: if you are leaving a negative review: Please do not leave reviews like "this ending---sucked." While I do not mind negative reviews, please leave _constructive_ criticism on what could be done better. If you don't, I will delete your review (in the case of an anonymous review), or I might be tempted to reply back with some snarky comment (in the case of a signed-in reviewer).

**Epilogue: End**

"This is disgusting," Dean said to his brother as he set the key card to the motel room down, shaking his head as he stepped over the long-neck glass bottles of cheap beer, waving his friend in front of his nose to try and get the smell of stale air to move around. "How long has it been?"

"Three days," Sam answered. They were in Glasgow, Wyoming, and John had looked like he put back another twelve-pack, passed out on "Sam's" bed. Dean set the duffle bag in the corner.

"All right…go get some trash bags, um, some Lyesol…and some food. You need something to eat." He handed him some of Elijah's money, a twinge of guilt passing through him. "And…whatever else you think of. But be sensible."

Sam nodded, leaving the room. Dean sighed, heading towards his father. "C'mon, Dad," he snapped, pulling him up, hearing the man grumble. "Let's get you sober." His voice had a biting sting to it, but John was so incapacitated that he didn't hear it. Dean managed to pull John towards the shower, shoving him in, turning on the cold water.

"What the fu-" John's eyes opened wide as he shouted, stopping when he saw Dean. "Oh, God-"

"Hi," Dean nearly snarled. "What were you thinking? You're supposed to be his father, not the drunk!"

"Dean, you're here-" John whispered, and Dean shook his head, slapping away the man's hand when he reached out to touch him. "Dean-"

"I don't want to hear it. Stay under there until you're alcoholed out, okay?"

"Where did you come from?"

"Your son found me. How is that, anyone? You let the _thirteen-year-old_ teenager drive the damn Impala! What if he had crashed the car? What if he-"

John reached forward with a sudden quickness, wrapping his son in a hug that soaked Dean and his leather jacket. Dean's whole body went rigid, his hands forming fists as the man squeezed tighter. "I missed you so much."

"I'm sure," Dean replied, pushing the man away. "Sober up, huh, get dressed? I'm gonna try to get the mess you made in there cleaned up before Sam gets back."

"I can't believe you're here-"

"Well, considering the last time I saw you, you had dumped me at a hospital, that might be one topic you don't want to hit on at this moment in time. I'll be in there."

After John changed, he could hear Dean moving around in the room, the ping of bottle against bottle taking up most of the silence. Guilt swept through him like it was an eighteen-wheeler with a vengeance, and John wondered how he would explain this to Dean.

He wouldn't, he knew, but thinking that he might actually do something this once gave him enough courage to walk into the room, pick up a bottle, and offering it to Dean as a truce. Dean looked at it wearily, letting out a breath as he took it. "This doesn't mean I forgive you. And I want you to know, that had it just been you, and had Sam not been part of this, I wouldn't be here."

"I'm sorry."

"That's not an apology, Dad. That's not even close. And it's not going to work this time-the half-hearted ones. You just left me somewhere, didn't care what happened, and that's going to be something you get to live with until I feel you've done enough groveling for it to be an apologetic gesture."

"Dean-"

"Don't, Dad; I don't care at this point in time. I don't know when I'll start caring. Until then, just leave me alone." John nodded, retreating back to his own bed, studying his son. He watched as Dean extended his arm, the pale pink of a fading scar going down his arm. John wasn't sure how Dean survived being attacked, but some how, there he was, whole and solid.

"Where did you stay?" John asked, and Dean looked up. "After-"

"A doctor took me in. His name is Elijah. He's the one who fixed my arm, for the most part, anyway, and he's the one who removed a part of my liver and he's the one that took me in when someone didn't bother coming back for me."

"Dean-" John offered as a warning; his son was starting to get a little too snappish with him.

Dean sighed, throwing down the bottle in his hand, watching it smash into the floor. "Did you even care?" he yelled, eyes darkening. "When you took Sam from me, left me in that hospital without anything but my name, did you care? At all?"

"Dean-"

His son shook his head, turning from the man. "I guess you really didn't. You know, Elijah wanted me to stay. I wanted to stay, because at least someone cared about me for once. But I didn't. You just…just remember that." He stopped talking as the door opened, Sam coming back in.

"Hi, Dad," he whispered, and John offered him a tight smile. "Dean, I got-"

"Just get a bag out, let's start putting this stuff in there." He offered no look to John, and instead picked up a piece of the broken bottle, throwing it away.

Later, as he sat up, long after Sam and John had fallen asleep, he stared at the phone, reaching to pick it up. He dialed the number carefully, cradling it in between his shoulder and ear as he glanced at the other two people in the room. He held his breath, waiting…one ring, two rings…

"Hello? Dean?"

"Hey, Doc."

"Are you okay? Everything's okay there?"

"Yeah, um…everything's fine. Well, not back to normal, but it's gonna be awhile before that happens. How's everything there?"

It went on for an hour, and in that time, Dean realized that he wouldn't ever be abandoned again. He'd always have someone there, another brother by a totally different family, who could be reached day and night-even if it was just over the phone.

Over the years, he used that ability. When Sam left, he spent two hours on the phone with Elijah, and when he met Cassie, there was another call. When he had to leave Cassie because of John, when Sam returned to the fold, when Jessica died…

Sam remembered the call he had to place when Dean's heart was hurt. He remembered Elijah offering to come up, take a look himself, and Dean's quiet refusal. When they got the Colt, when John finally came back, when Dean was critically injured, when John died. All events Elijah heard about, but was always told to stay in Triton and to stay safe.

He saw the news about them being wanted criminals-and he, of course, didn't believe it. He heard about Lillith, about Ruby, about when Sam died (but not about the deal), and about Devil's Gates. And he heard about the Winchesters last mission, to find and kill Lillith.

He did come to town when Dean died, though, and he mourned with Sam and Bobby. When Dean came back, he decided that it was best not to shock the life out of the man by explaining the situation.

Dean decided that's where it ended.


End file.
